#oc: alessa brightblade

[checkfortraps]

Doom upon the Faithful

This is a rewrite of a little origin thingy I made for my human war cleric Alessa as part of a prompt list ages ago, detailing the day where she lost her husband, her best friends, and part of her sanity while fighting a necromancer lairing in an old abandoned temple of Torm.

Under a cut for length. If you find typos and faulty grammar, you’re very welcome to keep both.

They fought in a tight formation, four souls forming a ring of light against a tide of undeath, of bone-white heresy.

The cacophony of armor and weapons clashing deafened Alessa to the point where she should barely make out her own racing heartbeat. The earth shook under the power of the arcane, and the air smelled like blood and decay. It truly was one of the worst battlefields she ever laid eyes on - and she had seen a lot, both as healer and as warrior.

She was not sure for how long the confrontation with the necromancer had been going on already, but the collection of dents in her plate armor and the exhaustion seeping through the thrill of battle were proof that it had been too long already. They had to wrap this up fast, or face defeat. And defeat in this case meant annihilation at best, and serving as the newest recruits to the necromancer’s army at worst.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a skeleton smash through Myrna’s mage armor. No room for a shield bash, so she gritted her teeth and raised her arm, intercepting the blow with her bracer. Divine energies deflected most of the impact, but her arm still went numb. She let out a defiant yell, then drove her sword through the skeleton’s sternum, shattering it. The abomination crumbled to the ground in a clatter of bones, bereft of the foul magic animating it.

Next to her, Myrna conjured crackling electricity into her open hands, then grabbed two skeletons at once with a terrifying snarl contorting her features. Blue-hued energy cloaked them, turning them into glowing dust that swirled through the stale air like a faint afterimage.

A cry rose over the combat noise then, half frenzy, half pain. Alessa deflected another blow, this time with her shield, then spun around, tired eyes finding Senna on the ground, bleeding heavily. Despite her wounds, the dwarven woman fought on, hunkering down behind her shield in an effort to gain additional cover, her war axe hacking away at the enemies surrounding her.

It was a valiant effort, but ultimately futile. The tides of undead was already closing in on her, ready to swallow her whole.

She needed help, and fast.

Myrna followed Alessa’s gaze. Her lips drew into a thin white line. “Go’”, she yelled over the noise, extending a hand to blast three skeletons with a wave of fire, almost absent-mindedly. When Alessa hesitated, she gave her a shove. “I said go! I can handle myself.”

Alessa nodded, breaking into a dead run. A prayer formed on her lips. She wasn’t sure what she even prayed for, but the intent seemed to reach Torm nevertheless, for holy energy alighted on the front of her shield where his symbol decorated it. A wave of radiance burst forth from it, blinding her temporarily. 

When the black swirls before her eyes faded, she found herself next to Senna, both of them covered in ash, the skeletons around them annihilated by her god’s righteous fury. The heat of divine power still lingered in her shield, noticeable even through the thick metal of her gauntlets.

“Praise you, my lord”, Alessa whispered under her breath. She glanced back at Myrna. The sorceress had cleared the area around her entirely, ash and soot the only testimony of the previous presence of an undead plague.

She wondered briefly why she had ever doubted the half-elf’s abilities. Old habit, maybe. When Myrna had joined their group, she had still been wet behind the ears, fresh from the academy. Her power had grown considerably in the last three years.

Senna gripped Alessa’s hand, hauling herself back to her feet. “Thanks. I was sure I’d see my ancestors soon.” She glanced around, dark brows furrowing. “Where’s Theo?”

Alessa felt her blood run cold.

“I fear he might be … indisposed.” A voice like icy waters, like winter and death personified. Alessa spun around and found a cloaked figure standing atop what seemed to be a podium at the far end of the chamber that might have been used for sermons once, before this temple had been ransacked and defiled. Red eyes burned in the shadows of a hood drawn low, meeting her gaze with a dark kind of mirth. Next to the figure hovered a giant hand made from arcane energy.

And in its translucent fingers, a limp body dangled, grey hair trailing over silvered plate armor, the helmet shattered on the ground alongside a mace that still glimmered with the remains of divine wrath.

“Theodore!” Alessa’s voice caught in her throat, the horrified scream turning into a strangled whisper. She wanted to run to him, to free him from that terrible grasp and then bash the necromancer’s face in with her shield. But her body betrayed her, limbs frozen in terror.

A flash of startlingly white teeth beneath that hood, a stark contrast to the eyes and the darkness cloaking the rest of the necromancer’s face. “Ah, allow me to guess. Your brother? No. Your lover. Delightful. It’s been a while since I had the pleasure of killing a couple. I wonder what your screams will sound like when I crush him.”

Darkness swirled at the flick of their gloved fingers, and the sound of metal bending under the pressure of the hand closing around Theodore filled the air, deafeningly loud. His screams died in his throat as it crushed his torso, squeezing the life out of him.

“No! Theo!” Alessa desperately tried to will herself to move, but her mental strength crumbled alongside her husband’s armor, and she found herself unable to break through her paralysis. Only now did she feel the blood drenching her gambeson, flowing freely from dozens of wounds all over her body. Her grip around the hilt of her sword had grown so weak she could barely hold on, pain and grief draining the fight out of her. Even if she managed to actually move, she’d never reach the podium in time to save Theodore.

A furious scream echoed through the chamber. Blue-tinged bolts of pure energy streaked past Alessa, so close she heard them buzzing like angry wasps. The giant hand dissolved under the onslaught of the magic missiles, proving that Theodore hadn’t gone down without a fight. Theodore hit the ground with a loud thump, groaning in pain.

He's still alive!

The realization filled Alessa with new strength. She reached for the white-hot blaze of faith in her soul and pulled. The paralysis fell away from her, and she crossed the chamber with the frantic speed that could only be conjured by desperation. She jumped up on the platform, roaring. Radiance burst from her shield again, washing over Theodore to close his wounds. Using the momentum of the motion, Alessa raised her sword and struck recklessly, anger driving the precision out of her attacks. Still, she managed to bury the blade deep in the necromancer’s chest with a sickening crunch when it hit bone.

Somewhere behind her, Myrna let out a triumphant howl, accompanied by Senna’s heavy footfall, like a war drum signalling victory.

Alessa found herself smiling at the carnage before her, at the blood coloring the necromancer’s black robes even darker. She was quite sure she missed the heart, but judging from the wet cough escaping her fallen foe, she had punctured a lung instead. It would be a very slow kind of justice for them.

One that did not align with Torm’s ideals. Even foul creatures like this one did not deserve to suffer for so long.

She stepped closer again, ready to twist the sword to bring this ugly business to a quick end, but she found it stuck. Her eyes widened in terror as she noticed the necromancer had gripped the blade with their hands, blood seeping from the cracks in their leather gloves where the sharp edge cut through them. Alessa saw red eyes and white teeth, and laughter filled the chamber, ugly and cruel, bloody spittle splattering her face as the necromancer leaned in closer.

“How very generous of you, offering up your life force so willingly. I’ll make sure to honor your sacrifice. But first, behave.”

Their bloody hand cupped her tear-streaked cheek, almost like a caress. Tendrils of black magic rose from their fingers, shrouding her vision until she was sure she’d gone blind. She tried to shove the necromancer away, but her body didn’t belong to her anymore. Her concentration on her Shield of Faith crumbled as crippling pain surged through her, the warmth of life draining from her until she shivered from cold and exhaustion. She sucked in a single shuddering breath, terror a tight coil in her stomach.

Then the world fell away from her, and she dissolved into nothingness.

Death.

[checkfortraps]

I got so excited about hearing about your characters that I dropped my phone on my face xx

(cont) I wanna hear about ALL your bootiful clerics, if you’ll have it..

Oh no, anon! I hope you didn’t hurt yourself too badly!

I already answered for Teivo here! Which leaves Alessa, human war cleric. and Gwyn, aasimar light cleric.

What they smell like

Alessa: clean laundry and mintGwyn: vanilla and spices

How they sleep

Alessa: curled up on her side, often hugging a pillow. She sleeps 5 hours max - often less, because she is a very light sleeper and wakes at the tiniest noises - and rises well before dawn on most days.

Gwyn: on her stomach, face buried in her pillows. Speaking of pillows, she needs at least three to sleep comfortably, and she totally hogged her companions’ pillows before to get even more cosy. Despite her domain and god, she’s a night owl, and if nobody wakes her up, she can and will sleep until noon or longer.

What music they enjoy

Alessa: she loves both religious chants and classical bardic music

Gwyn: she doesn’t really have a clear preference. As long as she can dance to it, she’ll love it.

How much time they spend getting ready every morning

Alessa: I think out of all my characters, she’s the one who needs the least time. 5 minutes maybe. She washes up real quick, puts on clothes, and then she’s ready to roll for her morning exercise.

Gwyn: half an hour or so. Not because she would do much - wash up, brush her hair, put on makeup -, but because she’s really sluggish in the morning and takes forever to finish a task.

Their favorite thing to collect

Alessa: nothing. She spent most of her life on the road, which makes packing lightly a necessity, so she never got in the habit of holding on to items of sentimental value.

Gwyn: cloakpins and bracelets

Left or right-handed

Alessa: right-handed

Gwyn: left-handed, though she’s been working on getting ambidextrous for quite a while now

Religion

Alessa: Torm, god of duty. loyalty, courage and law

Gwyn: Lathander, the Morninglord, god of dawn, light and renewal

Favorite sport

Alessa: running

Gwyn: you’d have more luck convincing her to jump into a dragon’s mouth than getting her to exercise

Favorite touristy thing to do when traveling

Alessa: visiting temples and other sacred places

Gwyn: no set routine, she just saunters around and checks out whatever catches her eye

Favorite kind of weather

Alessa: moderately warm and cloudy; bonus points if there’s some wind or rain

Gwyn: summery, dry weather, the hotter the better

A weird/obscure fear they have

Alessa: she has this recurring nightmare of evil sneaking up on her at night, so she’s really uncomfortable and lowkey freaking out when she has to sleep somewhere on her own without anyone keeping watch

Gwyn: she’s convinced pigeons are secretly spying on her

The carnival/arcade game they always win without fail

Alessa: she doesn’t like most carnival games tbh, but if you can convince her to play, she’s pretty good at High Striker

Gwyn: Ring Toss and darts